by RJ Blain
They needed her in California, and I didn’t ask her why nor did she share the circumstances.
Before she left, she kept her promise and helped me with my insurance company, and they promised to reimburse me for everything. I wasn’t happy with them, they weren’t happy with me, but for an extra ten dollars a month, they’d open my coverage to all fifty states and abroad.
I figured Kennedy’s contacts in the CDC had something to do with that.
Either by plan or a twist of fate, I was being questioned by her co-workers when she left town. Pruning trees kept them healthy, and there wasn’t enough left of us to save, so cutting it away in as painless a fashion as possible worked out for the best.
In a way, I wanted to thank my kidnappers. Only because of them, whoever they were, I thought I could actually move on and maybe do all those little things my therapists insisted would let me live life again rather than just surviving through each day. I even managed to walk my way through the realization without having a panic attack.
A week later, I returned to work, but things had changed. Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds was dubbed an official therapy cat by one of my doctors, who loved the idea of a grown man carrying around a tiny terror of a tabby. My kitten approved, as she loved riding on my shoulder so she could better see the planet she ruled and would one day destroy. Of my coats, the wool one with a hood proved her favorite, as she’d make herself home in the hood when she wasn’t reigning supreme on my shoulder and shedding on me.
As my official therapy kitten, Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds claimed my office as her grand audience chamber. The hallway became the prime gathering spot for impromptu meetings, meetings I ignored while doing my work. I added a sign to my door counting the number of days since the last vicious kitten attack, although it usually remained at zero.
My kitten liked trying to trip people by attacking their feet.
I went three blissful weeks without a visit from an angel. I almost made it four before Luna made an appearance, materializing in front of my desk rather than bothering with mundane things like knocking on my door. Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds hissed and dove under my desk, spitting feline curses at the angel.
While tempted to join my kitten in hiding, I pretended Luna didn’t exist, reading over one of the latest contracts for an expanded financial portfolio my boss wanted to bag.
Luna sighed. “Knock, knock.”
“I haven’t gotten any letters from Mississippi, but if I did, I would still throw it out just to piss you off.” I scrolled down the document, jotting down a note on something I needed to review later. “Is there any reason you skipped walking across the floor and knocking like a polite sentient?”
“You aren’t happy to see me.”
“The last time I saw you, you were getting me into shit with the FBI because you wouldn’t give them any details on why I had been kidnapped, why you took my kitten so she wouldn’t be involved in the accident, and why you hadn’t just notified anyone you knew exactly what was going on. Furthermore, since you knew and warned me about the accident, my insurance isn’t covering it, as they view the accident as willful endangerment. The only reason my premium isn’t going up is because I have an otherwise perfect record and it was verified I had no blame in the creation of the accident. They wanted to claim your warning about the accident counted as willful endangerment. Thanks for that. I didn’t already have enough trouble without that adding to it.”
I had gotten a barely running junker to get me to and from work until I could figure out what sort of vehicle I actually wanted. Sighing, I saved my work and gave the angel my attention.
Luna presented the dreaded envelope stamped from Mississippi. “I thought I’d save you the hassle of throwing it out and just bring it to you this time. I snagged it out of sorting room at the post office. Wasn’t that considerate of me?”
“And here I thought they’d stop coming after last month.” I scowled but snatched the envelope out of the angel’s hand. With a flick of my wrist, I pointed at her with it. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t just toss this and maintain a perfectly good tradition. I have a lot of work to do, so I don’t have the three hours to satisfy you on whatever discussion you might actually want to have.”
“Now, now. There’s no need to get snide, Reed.”
I rolled my chair back, thumped my foot on my desk, and pulled my slacks up to my knee, twisting my leg to show off the red scar. “The stitches came out three days ago, Luna. I might even be off the painkillers and other medications next week if it keeps healing as well as it has been. Let me remind you humans can’t just snap their fingers and have all of life’s little problems disappear. You have an agenda, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t actually involve you being helpful to me. Helpful would have been dishing out some of those secrets of yours rather than making me look like an idiot in front of the FBI.”
“You didn’t look like an idiot in front of the FBI.”
“Oh? What part of this makes me look intelligent? I told investigators an angel told me I could either get into a car accident, get tossed from a sixteenth story window, or be shot in one of several gruesome ways. The one just flat-out laughed, right up until you confirmed I was telling the truth. Thanks for that, by the way. If you had just told them you had given me those options from the start, I would have been spared a great deal of questioning. My auto insurance company laughed at me. If you angels actually believed in the finer points of life, including money, I’d be asking you to pay up for my new car since they aren’t going to be paying a cent. Thanks for that, too.”
Luna sat on the edge of my desk, making a sound suspiciously like a chastising tongue-clicking.
“Beings without heads should not mock mortals making noises like that. That’s awful, Luna. Stop it.”
“Just because you can’t see my head doesn’t mean I lack one. Despite what you believe, I do have a head. It’s just so magnificent you would be wiped out of existence should you see it. Mortals tend to fall over dead when looking into the glory of the heavens for some reason. So inconvenient.”
I sighed and dropped the envelope onto my keyboard, glaring at the letter. “What happens this time if I don’t read the damned letter?”
“Nothing, not for a while.”
“So something will happen.”
“Something always happens. Even taking your next breath has a consequence. You never asked me if something good or bad happened.”
I hated angels. “You’re a very frustrating individual, Luna.”
“I’ve invested many centuries of practice to become so. Thank you for noticing my hard work.”
“If I open the damned letter, will you leave me alone about it?”
“But you’ll surely want to talk about it.”
“If you’re all-seeing, looking into the future and all that, is there any reason you’re so insistent on bothering me?”
“You need a nudge in the right direction.”
“Right according to you or to me?” I snatched the envelope up, slapping it against the edge of my desk a few times. “Because the way I see it, the only one actually benefiting from your machinations here is you.”
“Would I do that?”
“Yes, you would.”
“Do you truly think so little of me?”
I didn’t think about it for very long. “Yes. To you, I’m probably the equivalent of a bug. An interesting bug, for the five or ten seconds of your lifespan I entertain you. In a blink of an eye to you, I’ll get old and die. In a few hundred years, you won’t even remember I existed. That’s the thing about angels. They don’t care about this little moment in time. It’s all about the future, and not necessarily my future. So, what’s in it for you, Luna?”
The angel laughed. “What is in it for any angel?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Language.”
I tossed the letter onto my desk and considered how many times I would need to smack my forehead onto the edge t
o put myself out of my misery. “You invited yourself into my office without knocking. I’m pretty sure if you wanted nice language, you’d just go back to heaven where you belong.”
“You’re in a mood today. A rather vocal one, far more so than during any of our other meetings.” Luna sighed and sat. “Mortals. You simply must insist on exercising your free will. Do you have any idea how much trouble that causes?”
“I’m in a mood today because I have work to do, work that doesn’t involve pandering to you and your condescending ego. If you actually want me to look at this envelope, then give your solemn vow you’ll stop meddling in my affairs. No more popping up and telling me the future, taking off with my kitten because you want things to go a certain way. And no getting others to meddle in my affairs, either. And no, I really don’t care how much trouble it causes. You can chalk that one up to my terrible case of mortality.”
Luna grunted.
To test her claim she had a head I just couldn’t see, I snatched the envelope, got my feet off my desk so I could reach over and swipe the paper in the space her head should have been. If she had a head, it was nothing but air. “Illusionary head, then?”
“Or perhaps I left it at home.”
“That’s a bit awkward. Are you telling me all you angels just leave your heads lying around?”
“You’ll never know.”
“Such tragedy. Choose, Luna. Into the trash it goes, or you give your solemn vow to stop meddling in my affairs. Either way, I’m happy with the situation.”
“What ever happened to your sense of mortal curiosity? This would be so much easier if you were curious about what was inside,” she complained.
“I’m going to raise my opening fee if you whine.” I hovered my hand over my trashcan to discover Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds had an interest in the letter, too. I waved it for her, and she jumped in her effort to claim it as yet another one of her conquests. “I could just give it to my kitten as a toy. Might be a more effective way to get rid of it than the trashcan.”
Luna crossed her arms over her chest and spat, “Mortals.”
“That’s going to cost you your solemn vow to stop meddling in my affairs and something that costs you a disgusting amount of money but might be useful to me, like a new car.”
“How about a sword?”
“Only if you’re paying the sword maker of my choice, plus you’re paying for the lessons to learn how to swing it around. I don’t want any swords you pick.”
“Since when did you become so suspicious?”
“Do you really want me to start listing the reasons why I don’t trust you?”
“I could find out if I truly desired.”
I lowered the letter closer to the floor so Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds could get a better grip on it with her claws and teeth. “Let me help you figure it out. We’ll start with the car accident you manipulated me into participating in. Rather than, you know, preventing it in the first place. If you hadn’t said anything, I would have been in the car accident anyway.”
“But then your kitten would have been involved, too.”
“That’s life, Luna. You should try it sometime—life without being immortal. But you should know this already. People die. So do kittens. Sometimes, people and their kittens die in car accidents. It happens. While I can’t really blame you for caring more about my kitten than you do about me, just another one of those pesky mortals with free will, it’s still rather annoying. Since you’ve managed to make me look like an idiot and have done your fair share of manipulations, I’ve had enough. Pay up, or the kitten shreds—and possibly eats—the letter. I promise I won’t be reading it.”
“When did you get a spine?” she hissed.
“I’m going to guess around the time a tornado tossed a jet at me. It missed, as you can tell. I can raise my price again if you’d like. I don’t mind.”
“Sarcastic, too.”
“Well, you’re the one who popped in and interrupted my work.” Since she hadn’t declined my offer, I kept Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds from doing more than leaving a few holes in the envelope before showing the angel the damage. “I’m sure my kitten would like to keep playing with it. I think she thinks it’s food.”
“Fine. Pick your smith, but I will pick the instructor. If you’re going to play with sharp objects, at least you should learn from the best. Maybe you’ll live. I’ll be back in a week to pay for your blade.”
I smiled and waved the envelope. “Then I’ll read this. Your vow, Luna.”
“Very well. I solemnly swear I will cease meddling in your affairs, purchase the sword of your choice from the smith of your choice, and pay for your lessons, effective as soon as you read the letter.”
I grabbed my letter opener, sliced through the envelope, and pulled out two sheets of paper. The first was the statement of my release and pardon, complete with a wax seal stamp certifying it to be an official copy. Wrinkling my nose, I checked it over, but it matched my copy of it. Setting it aside, I checked over the second letter.
I had no idea who or what Lucavier Buioni was, but I recognized a pretentious invitation when I saw one, inviting me to visit Mississippi to discuss the circumstances of my incarceration and eventual exoneration. He favored haughty language, so I pegged him as an older species of the supernatural bent. If Lucavier was a spin off Lucifer, I suspected a demon or devil, and not one of the nicer ones.
Incubi and succubi ranked at the forefront of known demons, but many more types lurked in the dark places of the world, and they weren’t interested in pleasurable debauchery.
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not, although I do have one question for you—and answering it won’t classify as meddling. Consider this a single exemption, Luna. But you have to answer honestly if you answer at all.”
“I’m an angel. I’m always honest.”
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Luna.” I folded both sheets of paper and set them on the edge of my desk. “I may not be a match for you at the lying without lying game, but I’ve done my fair share of it.” I clacked my teeth together. “I lost everything playing that game, so don’t play it with me right now.”
“Humans are interesting creatures. Just when I think they’re no longer capable of surprising me, they do. Very well. Ask your question.”
“Why do you want me to meet this Lucavier fellow? And don’t even ask me to try to pronounce his last name.”
“I believe it’s perhaps Italian in origin. I could have been wanting you to see the official copy of your innocence.”
“As an angel capable of seeing into the past and future, I’m sure you already knew I had a copy. Nice try. Why do you want me to meet this fellow?”
“Aren’t you more interested to know why he’s so interested in meeting you?”
“If I was more interested, I would have asked. No, I want to know why you want me to meet him.”
“I choose not to answer at all.”
“And that’s an even more interesting answer than if you’d just told me the truth. Next week, Luna. Do try to make an appointment so you don’t interrupt my work unnecessarily.”
When she vanished in a flash of golden light, I laughed. I dropped the envelope on the floor for Kitten, Destroyer of Worlds to play with and went back to work.
Chapter Fifteen
While I would have thought the art of forging swords would have gone the way of the dodo hundreds of years ago, Indianapolis had over fifty blacksmiths specialized in bladed weapons. Under the guise of wrapping up a little extra work, I stayed late, spreading my time between actual tasks I needed to do and finding a heinously expensive, good quality weapon capable of making even an angel cry.
If Luna had been wise, she would have given me a spending cap. I suspected she forgot the nuances of mortal life, including the value of money, but she was an angel. I had faith she could figure out how to pay for a sword I was going to pick based on a lot of factors, none of which included my skill with
a blade of any sort. The blacksmith I hired would likely hate me for it, too.
I aimed for functionality and work of art, and if I could have a weapon that had a certain amount of wow factor to it, even better.
I narrowed my search to five blacksmiths in the area, and I hoped one of them would be able to give me some insights on who might be the best person to forge a weapon perfect for getting a solid jab in at an angel. Once I finished the work I used to keep me in the office after hours, I picked up my phone and dialed the first on my list, a centaur who went by Hamhock.
According to the little research I had done, Hamhock held a good reputation as a knowledgeable blacksmith specialized in weapons of all types, mastering none but known a great deal about them all, which made her ideal for my situation. With luck, she could point me in the right direction.
“Hamhock’s Forge,” a woman barked after the third ring.
“My name is Reed Matthews, and I’m looking for some information about having a sword commissioned.”
“Sec. Lemme get da boss.”
The phone clattered on something hard, and I ended up listening to a series of grimace-inducing thuds, grunts, and a couple of yelps. Shod hooves on stone warned me of a centaur’s approach to the phone.
“Hamhock speaking,” the airy soprano of another woman said.
“Reed Matthews. I’m looking for information on having a sword commissioned. Any chance you can help me?”
“I forge swords. What type are you looking for?”
“My goal is to have a weapon so nice it makes an angel weep with jealousy, especially after she pays for it and it sinks in it belongs to me and not her. I might actually need two, one I can learn with, and then the actual sword once I won’t utterly disgrace it.” I allowed myself a single chuckle. “Price is no issue, as I have the solemn vow of an angel she will purchase the weapon of my choice. I figured I’d let someone who knows swords better than I do tell me what sort of blade is best for me.”
“That’s an interesting request. I’m not skilled enough to make that sort of weapon.”
